


God Bless (Captain) America

by storytellerluna



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Birthday Party, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fourth of July, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-04
Updated: 2019-07-04
Packaged: 2020-06-07 18:29:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19474867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/storytellerluna/pseuds/storytellerluna
Summary: Steve and Bucky both have pasts that bring up some awkward feelings and/or traumatic memories on the 4th of July. Luckily for them, they also have each other, and a whole bunch of awesome supportive friends.





	God Bless (Captain) America

Bucky Barnes leaned against the windowsill as he looked out at the streets below. He was several stories up in Avengers Tower, watching the 4th of July parade make its way through New York’s streets. Red, white, and blue dominated everything around: store fronts had gone all out, apartments had American flags hanging from practically everywhere, and some of the buildings themselves were even lit up with red, white, and blue lighting. Bucky stared at a gigantic American flag which flew from a flagpole directly across the street from Avengers Tower, and inwardly, he wrestled with himself.

Truth be told, he really felt like he might vomit.

It wasn’t that he wasn’t grateful to the United States for anything: it was the country of his birth, after all, and he’d been raised here. He’d come of age in a very patriotic era, nonetheless, had done his duty by joining the military, and had gotten himself shipped overseas to fight Nazis. The ultimate act of American heroism, so they said.

And he had also betrayed this country multiple times.

Of course, Steve would assure him that it wasn’t his fault. He was brainwashed at the time, and was being controlled by Hydra. Still, Bucky remembered all the actions he had taken as a Hydra operative, and he couldn’t help but think they were his doing, at least to some extent. He didn’t feel like he had the right to celebrate American independence when he had done so much damage to this country, intentional or not.

He closed the curtains and turned his back to the window, taking a deep breath in and out. More than one of his Hydra handlers had worn American flag pins on their lapels. They would fly the colors and sing the anthems and work behind the scenes to dismantle the liberties that the country claimed it stood for. Bucky knew better than many others just how much of a hypocrite the American government was.

He squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head, trying to clear it. Then he went to find Steve.

He found him one story down, in the boxing ring that Tony had set up, practicing sparring with Natasha. They were going toe-to-toe with no clear winner until Steve caught sight of Bucky in his peripheral vision. Steve faltered, and Natasha won the practice bout.

“Thanks for the workout,” Natasha said, brushing her hair out of her face. “You did pretty well, for a senior citizen.”

“Ha,” Steve said, giving her a look. “Very funny.”

Natasha glanced at Bucky, then back at Steve. “I can see you’re going to be distracted. I’ll leave you two alone now.” And she ducked out of the ring and walked away. As she passed Bucky in the doorway, she whispered in Russian, “good luck.”

Steve sat down on the edge of the boxing ring, and Bucky came and sat down next to him. “What’s wrong?” Steve asked as soon as Natasha was gone. He knew Bucky’s facial expressions better than he knew anything else, and he could tell when Bucky was troubled about something.

“The parade’s going on outside,” Bucky explained. “I was watching it, but then I just started thinking about… well, everything. The war era, the flags, the propaganda about marching off to join the fight…”

He trailed off. He didn’t realize how much that part had gotten to him, too. He kept dwelling so much on the Hydra stuff, since it was his biggest and most painful piece of trauma, that he often forgot how messed up the nationalism of the 1940s had been.

Steve just nodded. “I understand.”

Bucky looked up at him. He didn’t know why he was surprised, but he was. “You do?”

“Well yeah, Buck, I lived through that too, you know.”

“Yeah, I know, but… well, I mean, you’re Captain America.”

Steve leaned back and let out a long sigh. His face looked contemplative. Privately, he was thinking about everything that the 40s had been for him. He’d been a skinny, malnourished, sickly kid with a 4F on his draft card, almost guaranteed never to be chosen to do the one thing he wanted to do: serve his country. When he had finally gotten a chance to serve, he had been relegated to the role of dancing monkey in a costume, a poster boy for the very same brand of patriotism and national pride that Bucky was complaining about now. He had been right there in the thick of it as the U.S. government used underhanded tactics to manipulate and control the population, whipping up patriotic sentiment to cover up the shady back-room deals. He thought about that senator who had originally given him his “big break,” and about what role Captain America was supposed to have played: the movie star, the Star Spangled Man With a Plan. The only reason Captain America meant something real to the people was because he, Steve Rogers, had defied orders and made something of himself _despite_ what his government had told him to do.

“Captain America was just some guy in a costume at first, Buck,” Steve explained. “It’s just a job title. What makes that important isn’t the uniform, or the flag, or the shield. It’s what you do with it that counts.”

Bucky laughed. “Mr. Patriotism, telling me the flag isn’t important. How ‘bout that.”

Steve gave him a look. “Mr. Patriotism? You sound like you’ve been listening to Tony. I’m Captain America, sure, but I find myself at odds with the U.S. government way too often to really be called patriotic…”

“Your birthday is literally the 4th of July, Steve.”

“Yeah, yeah, tell me something I don’t know.”

At that moment, Clint Barton walked in and paused in the doorway. “Uh, hey,” he began, kind of awkwardly. “Nat told me I might find you both here. They’re gonna start the fireworks show soon and all of us are gathering to watch it upstairs. You gonna join us?”

“Uh, maybe in a minute,” Steve said. Clint nodded and left.

Bucky cast a sideways glance at Steve, curious. “Steve?”

Steve smiled in that way that he reserved only for Bucky. “I’d like to spend a few more moments alone with you, if that’s alright.”

Bucky smiled back, and kissed him gently on the lips. They sat there wrapped up in the moment, literally, until the first fireworks began going off outside.

When the first one went off, Bucky could instantly feel the difference in Steve. Instead of being relaxed and soft, his muscles tensed and his breath caught in his throat. His heartrate sped up: Bucky could feel Steve’s heart pounding against his chest since they were still hugging. He pulled away just a little so he could look at Steve’s face.

Steve looked around at the ceiling and the walls like he thought they were going to cave in on him. He looked absolutely terrified. With each new firework that went off outside, he flinched and his mouth became a straight line, a determined look that Bucky knew very well. He’d seen that look on Steve’s face in a war zone more times than he could count.

“Hey, Steve, it’s okay,” Bucky said without having to be prompted. “Steve? Listen to me. It’s just fireworks, pal. It’s not bombs.”

“We’ve gotta get everyone to safety,” Steve whispered. His muscles were so tight he was beginning to shake just because of the pressure of that, and his vocal chords barely worked.

Bucky just looked at him sadly for a moment. Of course that would be what Steve was worried about. He could tell Steve was pretty deep in his flashback, and probably wouldn’t rest until he had protected everyone in Avengers Tower from the fireworks.

Bucky cleared his throat. “Um, hey Jarvis? Is there a secure basement in this place, somewhere soundproof maybe?”

“Of course!” came the pleasant voice of Jarvis, Tony’s AI assistant. “Underground garage number 3. Mr. Stark sometimes uses it for overflow from his research and development lab. He needed it to be soundproof because…”

“I don’t really care why it’s soundproof, just show us where it is please?” Bucky asked.

“Right away, sir,” Jarvis replied.

Helpful lights illuminated on the floor, pointing the way to underground garage #3, and Bucky took Steve’s hand and led him there. It turned out to be a rather large cavernous space, and Bucky couldn’t tell if it was under Avengers Tower or under the streets of New York. Jarvis opened the door for them and they both walked in.

To Bucky’s surprise, the garage was not empty. Tony was there, welding something in the corner, his back to the door. Jarvis closed the door behind them, but Bucky and Steve stood just inside the doorway, watching Tony for a moment, not sure what to do or say. Steve clutched Bucky’s hand like it was the end of the world. His heartrate had not slowed down since the fireworks started, and he began to feel like he should sit down.

Tony came to a stop in his welding and stood up straight, listening for a moment. Then he took his helmet off and turned around.

“Thought you’d be upstairs watching the – oh shit, is he having a heart attack?”

“He’s having a flashback, could you help me calm him down please?” Bucky asked. “Maybe tell him this area is safe?”

“A flashback?” Tony asked. He gently put his welding tools down on the bench and turned back around to face Steve and Bucky as if he wasn’t sure what to expect. He knew what flashbacks were. Jarvis had explained them to him after the first time he’d had one. Still, he also knew that they were different for each person, and the truth was that he had no idea what to do here. He was bad enough at handling his own flashbacks, handling someone else’s was not something he was prepared for. Especially not if that someone else was Captain America.

Steve sat down on the floor and tried to take deep breaths to regulate his heart rate. Bucky knelt next to him and held his hand. He kept his voice steady and kept repeating “it’s okay, you’re safe,” over and over again until Steve’s breathing finally began to regulate.

In the background, Tony pulled out his phone and typed a text message to Sam Wilson while Bucky helped pull Steve back into the present.

Steve’s heart rate was beginning to slow down now, and as he continued to breathe deeply and look around the space, he began to understand that there had never been a bomb threat that night. As he came back into clarity, he realized what must have happened.

“Oh, God,” he groaned. “Oh my God. That was… really bad.”

“It’s okay, Steve, you’re okay now.”

Steve still looked troubled. “How… how could I… how could that happen? Oh my... what would people think if they knew _Captain America_ is triggered by fireworks?”

Bucky shrugged. “Who gives a shit? They’re not you. They don’t get to have an opinion on this.”

Steve stared at Bucky for a moment. A flood of love and appreciation washed over him as he understood what exactly Bucky had just done.

“Buck… I’m so glad you’re with me,” he breathed.

Bucky hugged him again. “Of course I am,” he whispered. “I’m with ya till the end of the line.”

Later that night, after the fireworks had died down, they gathered at Sam’s house. It was just Sam, Steve, Bucky, Tony, Natasha, Clint, Bruce, and Thor. All the guests gathered in Sam’s living room as Sam brought out a birthday cake decorated like Steve’s shield. On top of the cake, there were three candles in the shape of numbers: 100.

“Happy centennial,” Sam said as he presented the cake to Steve.

“Thank you,” Steve said. “You didn’t have to do any of this. I really appreciate it.”

“Are you kidding, man?” Sam asked. “Captain America needs my help. And it’s your birthday! What else was I supposed to do?”

Natasha led everyone in a chorus of Happy Birthday, making sure to fit in something about how Steve was ancient. Steve laughed.

“Hey Nat, lay off the guy,” Clint piped up. “It’s his birthday for crying out loud.”

“It’s all in good fun,” Natasha protested. “Besides, it’s not every day you get to celebrate your friend turning _one hundred_.”

“Ah yes, I remember my hundredth birthday,” Thor said, smiling fondly. “It was a raucous occasion. Of course, Asgardians really go all out for someone’s first thousand…”

“Okay, okay, Thor, we get it,” Bruce said playfully. “You’re, like, really old.”

“I am 5106!”

“Stop stealing Steve’s thunder!” Bruce joked.

“Yo, Steve, are you gonna blow out your candles or not, man?” Sam asked.

Steve blew out the candles, and Bucky pulled one of his knives out of his belt and leaned forward to cut the cake, but Tony stopped him at the last minute.

“Hey, hey, I got a robot that can do that,” he said. “Let the robot do it. Put the knife away. It’s a party, after all, jeez.”

Thor handed everyone drinks, and Natasha leaned back in her chair, sipping hers and watching Steve over the rim of her glass.

“So, are you gonna tell us what you wished for, or do we have to guess?” she asked.

“I didn’t wish for anything,” Steve told her. He put his arm around Bucky and looked around at the room full of his best friends in the world. “I’ve got everything I could want right here.”

The room filled with a chorus of “aww,” and “dude, I didn’t know you felt that way!” Then Tony coughed.

“Okay, stop it, you’re gonna make us cry.”

“You’re the only one who’s crying, Tony.”

“Hey now,” Tony warned, but everyone could tell he was touched.

They spent the rest of the night like that, just hanging out and joking with each other in Sam’s living room. There were no fireworks to worry about, and no public pressure to be super-heroic or anything. For one night, the whole space was just filled with a group of people who liked each other, coming together to celebrate their friend’s birthday. And it was the most casual and the most peaceful thing in the world.


End file.
